


Crackling Love

by TheWritingSquid



Series: The Bonds of Family [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: DMC Gen Week, Demon archeology is in full swing, Familiars AU, Gen, PTSD and Dissociation, Shadow is best girl, Spoilers for Visions of V to some extent, Vergil is definitely dealing with some of that trauma, also a Big Kitty, thunderstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-19 14:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19975678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingSquid/pseuds/TheWritingSquid
Summary: While exploring a demon shrine, Vergil finds comfort from a bad day in Shadow, and rediscovers the pleasure of thunderstorms with Griffon.





	Crackling Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of DMCGenWeek, for Prompt #2 : Hug / Competition. Both of the prompts made it in. :D
> 
> This is Part 2 of a series. It's not strictly necessary to have read "To Whom I May Belong", though a lot of it would make more sense if you read the first one. Otherwise, you really only need to know two things: Vergil made a new contract with his three familiars, and he no longer has demon powers or the Yamato. This happens a few months after.

Vergil paced the shrine's muggy room, his boots scuffing the smooth stone floor in time with the twitch of his hands. It was a bad day. He'd woken up with the crawling certainty that the world would come crashing down in some manner, and no amount of diving into his work alleviated the feeling. Ripped pages piled in a corner, a graveyard of sketches of insufficient quality he had carefully torn out of his notebook. He had always been accomplished with precise reproductions of environments, but decades in Hell had rusted his skills and they hadn't quite properly returned yet. This setback turned recording the state of the demonic shrine as he found them into a more lengthy enterprise than initially anticipated, but that mattered little. He had ample time ahead of him now, did he not? Besides, it had still taken him half the number of attempts as the first shrine had required, despite the complex mural painting on the crescent-like back wall and the even more complicated puzzle of energy links needed to recreate the seal's ritual circle. 

The memory of it slowed Vergil's restless steps. Yesterday had been better; they'd arrived at the shrine midafternoon, bright sunshine plunging through the colourful glasswork on each side, one of which depicted avian demons with incredibly long legs, slim pointed beaks, and plumage of ice and fire. Griffon had flown up to them, snapping his wings and declaring he looked far mightier than these low-tiered punks. Vergil had asked how it was, then, that _they_ had a shrine dedicated to them, and the indignant rant thus provoked had kept him amused as he'd studied their surroundings. The shrine truly was dedicated to these demonic entities: their likeness was etched into pillars and mural, too, and the small but high-roofed space had an airy quality that spoke of birds. Vergil had found indications that the seal over this shrine might be weakened, and indeed, half the energy links lay broken, limp on the ground, torn from the three-dimensional sigil they'd formed around the room. 

He hadn't expected them to be actual, solid strands, almost an inch thick. With half the arcane figure still glowing a soft purple, it hadn't been too hard to guess how to rebuild the rest. It had turned out a lot harder, however, to connect the links, most of all because every time Vergil let one trail behind him, a gigantic panther leaped on it, claws out. More than once, Vergil tried to snatch the strand away, but Shadow was quicker than him, and stronger. She was also massive and kept knocking new strands out while she played. Vergil tried to get her to stop several times, to Griffon's great delight, but no amount of mental pleading could get past Shadow's hunter instincts--his own annoyed amusement must have seeped too strongly through the link, and with Shadow, one needed to be very firm. He had been forced-- _forced_ \--to pause the puzzle solving and play with her until she finally grew bored of it, and he could finish the work and strengthen the seal once more.

Yesterday had been a good day, but even thinking of it now--even the surprising fondness Shadow's antics brought him--didn't wash away the continued looming threat of today. He hated it. Who knew whether the shifting demonic energy was messing with his mood, if the hot and muggy late summer air played tricks on him, if _something_ really was coming, or if the paranoia had just grown too strong to shake off? Some days were like this; no matter how hard he tried to convince himself he was safe, memories of countless ambushes and impressions from his barely-remembered time in Hell reared their heads, decisive proof that he was, in fact, never safe. Vergil had always had days like this, but ever since Dante ripped his powers out of him and left him near defenceless, they'd grown more frequent and more intense. 

At least he understood what they were now. It had taken a lot of arguing with Griffon for him to admit to it, but having the accursed bird so closely tied to his mind did help with the perspective. It was, in all likelihood, just a bad day.

Vergil still hated it--hated the sensation of impending doom, the unwarranted squeezing in his chest, the way his mind sometimes forgot it belonged to this body and seemed to watch it, a step removed. He started pacing again, his legs burning the anxious energy, his mind wandering to the sketches. He had all of them now, but Vergil wanted to inspect the shrine one last time, and the afternoon light was fast diminishing. He wouldn't have time for a meticulous pass and besides, he didn't want to make the trek back down to the city with his mind on high alert. It was exhausting enough to endure it in an area he'd scouted twice already.

Movement caught his attention at the corner of his eyes, and his heart leapt, his hand flying to the scabbard at his waist--until Shadow’s shifting body solidified into a cat once more. His chest still hurt from the flashfire fear, and he scowled at her. 

“You can warn,” he snapped, knowing full well it was his fault for not paying attention to the shift in her mood. His mind had been too crowded with other thoughts, or he’d have known she intended to morph by his side. 

Shadow ignored his tone entirely and jogged to his side, pushing her head against his leg, almost tripping him. 

“What do you want?” 

She purred and rubbed her entire muscled frame against his much weaker one, sending him tumbling back. Vergil sighed and extended a hand, fingers outstretched as he reached for their link. He couldn’t understand Shadow or Nightmare as Griffon did, but with practice he’d gotten better at sifting through the emotions suffusing the connection. Most of the time, Shadow’s aura resonated with aggressive protectiveness, but it felt softer today, warmer. She bounded into his hand, her entire body shifting, climbing up his arms, waves of tiny spikes stinging him.

“Shadow…” He spread his legs so the panther’s weight wouldn’t unbalance him, then set a second hand against the shifting mass of black. “I’m fine, I promise.”

She paid his protest no mind, covering instead his legs and chest, still creating the rippling waves. It didn’t hurt; she kept the spikes small and quick, and the brief pain instead grounded him, gave his brain a constantly evolving situation to occupy itself with. Vergil sighed and closed his eyes. Shadow had only did this twice before, once when he’d completely disconnected from his body, his mind wandering off to places he no longer remembered, and another when his paranoia had devolved into a low, buzzing panic that had slowly stolen his breath away.

Vergil knew, of course, that all three of his demons kept a discreet watch on his mood. It was a difficult thing to conceive, a baffling endearment he’d yet to entirely explain to himself, safe perhaps in the ways he found himself reciprocating increasingly often, casting his mind out after battles or peculiar behaviour. Griffon chided him whenever he caught him, and Vergil claimed it was a mutually beneficial habit to have--he needed them so stay safe, now, and they needed him to live at all. It was best when everyone pretended not to care. Shadow, however, didn’t have an ounce of duplicity in her.

She cared, inescapably so, ever since they had saved her from Phantom, working together to destroy the demonic spider. Overbearing pounces and licks had been part of the deal back then, too. Vergil had little idea how to respond, so in the end he mostly… let her. When Shadow became affectionate, all one could truly do is sit down and accept.

So he did. 

Vergil crouched down as Shadow wrapped herself around him, nibbling at his body for a time until she sprouted two paws, pushed on his chest and half-slammed him into the ground. A startled chuckle escaped him, and then a thick, raspy tongue was running the length of his cheek. He protested by trying to push Shadow’s face away, but she only engulfed his hand, her body cool and spiky. It prickled, and that calmed him. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the alertness remained, an itch he knew would not entirely vanish, yet the weight on his lungs was now entirely physical, rather than born of imagined threats. His body loosened, and he ran his fingers along the sleek lines of Shadow’s arcane patterns, inciting her to morph back into a great feline. She settled on his chest, stretching out to cover almost all of him, and the deep vibration of her purring spread through him. Vergil rested his head against the cold stone, fingers reaching behind Shadow’s ear. It was a hot, muggy afternoon, but he had no intention of moving from under his insistent companion. 

This was his life now, until Shadow moved of her own free will.

****

###

****

Thunder cracked through the stifling air, jolting Vergil awake. Shadow emitted a low rumble of protest as he sat up, but let herself meld back into him after a quick pat of her massive paw on his cheek. Rain pounded hard against the shrine’s windows, and as Vergil stared at them, lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the glasswork. His heart pounded, and a grin broke across his face. 

_A thunderstorm!_ He’d almost forgotten those existed at all, that even in the human world, lightning could tear across the sky and smash to the ground, its boom rattling bones and heart alike. Hell certainly had its share of electric weather, but none of it had ever compared to the thrilling sensation of standing steady into a storm as it unraveled around you. Vergil scrambled to his feet with childish joy, shedding off his coat and pulling away his boots to run barefooted into the downpour.

Cold rain drenched him in an instant, weighing his hair, rivuleting down his nose, soaking his sleeveless vest and pants. He loved how stormy conditions wrapped around him, sinking into his body, battering it relentlessly with wind and rain. He’d always had, even as a child. Their father used to say there was power in human weather, and power in facing it head-on, so when the biggest storms rolled up, Vergil would always step out, to stand unmoving in the elements while Dante ran around, jumping into puddles and laughing. 

Vergil pushed away his childhood memories--that life was gone now, out of reach--and he strode to the edge of the cliff on which the shrine was perched, fighting against the wind with every step. It buffeted him, slamming into his ever-exhausted muscles, pulling and pushing, sending fat drops of water into his eyes. Twigs and rocks dug into his soles until he neared the edge, and the ground turned muddy. It would take only one moment of lost balance, the fraction of a second, and he could pitch forward, tumble to his death.

His heart pounding, exhilaration coursing through him, Vergil spread his arms and laughed. A great bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, so close its thunder landed immediately, shaking the earth itself. _This_ was power, the kind that had once coursed through his very soul--raw, unfiltered, unmatched.

_“Unmatched?”_

Griffon’s voice burst through his mind, then his demon bird shot out. A gust immediately caught into his wings, sending him flying back with a surprised squawk, and he dug his talons into Vergil’s shoulders to stop himself from soaring away. Vergil’s eyebrows shot up; how unimpressive.

“Ya think this lil’ storm’s something to behold, dontcha?” Griffon asked, like nothing in the world had just happened. “I’ll show you some _real_ lightning.”

His wings crackled and he flew off, navigating the gusts with more grace this time, rising up. Electricity gathered around him, and Vergil couldn’t help roll his eyes. He’d battled countless times alongside Griffon--enough to know what, exactly, his companion was capable off, even when he was charging ahead of time. The air fizzled with power, enough that he began to question his initial assessment. Griffon was, after all, in his natural element. Perhaps he could draw from--

Lightning struck down from the dark clouds, its blinding arms coursing through the sky and hitting Griffon squarely. Vergil’s heart jumped and he stepped forward, Griffon’s name stuck in his throat but cast out clearly from his mind. He blinked to clear his vision, peering through the rain for the telltale shape of blue wings. 

“Worried, paper boy?” Griffon’s mocking caw reached him, stolen by the winds but clear in his mind, and as Vergil’s sight returned, he found the bird glowing with energy, rain sizzling as it hit him.

Vergil scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, slicking the bangs away from his eyes. “As if.”

Griffon laughed, plunged towards Vergil, and unleashed several powerful strikes, sending electricity dancing all around him, the crackling energy passing a mere inch away from his bare arms and cheeks. Vergil didn’t flinch, only tracked Griffon’s flight as he swooped back up, the bird’s own thrill twining with Vergil’s fast-beating heart. With a laugh, Griffon unleashed a ring of blue electricity, lighting up the sky in a wider area than Vergil had ever seen him accomplished, despite the energy just unleashed.

“Is that all, Griffon?” Vergil asked, egging him on as if he hadn’t displayed inordinate amount of power.

“Why you--” 

A second strike of lightning hit him, and this time, Griffon didn’t waste any time absorbing its energy… instead redirecting it straight at Vergil. The bolt flashed through the air, smashing into the ground an instant after Vergil jumped back. Griffon came plunging right through the after-flash, and his talons dug in Vergil’s forearm as he grabbed him, lifted him up, and banked to the side, swooping… right past the cliffside. 

“Ya think it’s fun to make fun of good ol’ Griffon, dontcha? Still a smug little shit.”

If Griffon was truly angry, he was letting none of it leaked through their bond. Vergil smirked, his gaze sliding down to his bare toes as he wiggled them, hundreds of feet above the jagged rocks and occasional tree below. This was a precarious position: he was flying in the middle of a thunderstorm, held by an lightning-rod bird, with nothing but a long drop and no natural healing should he fall. The wisest course of action would be to apologize to Griffon and request to be set down.

“I simply asked it it was the extent of your power. If _that_ felt like mocking, perhaps the problem is in your mind, not my words.”

Griffon cackled and dove down, and suddenly it felt like it was raining upwards, instead of down, and Vergil’s heart climbed into his throat, pounding from the thrill. He couldn’t help his grin, though, especially when another bolt of lightning jolted through the sky, thunder rumbling behind. How close it all felt, right now! He tightened his grip on Griffon’s leg, gritting his teeth against the burning pain of the talons scratching his forearms, blood and rain mixing in. He was _in_ the storm, closer to it than he’d ever been, and despite the significant risk he would get electrocuted to death for it, Vergil had rarely felt so alive. 

Renewed laughter bubbled up his throat, and he put no effort in stilling it. Why bother, when gusts of wind pulled at him from every side, rain splattered across his face, thunder rumbling in his ears and heart--and all he wanted to do was laugh at the universe, daring it to zap Griffon and him. 

“That more up your speed, paper boy?” Griffon asked, his voice snatched away by the storm as he spoke. He started up again, wings beating furiously. “ _This_ is how you live a thunderstorm, not with your feet in the ground!”

“This is how I _die_ in a thunderstorm,” Vergil countered, but he was still grinning, still laughing.

They reached the top of the cliff again, at the shrine’s height, and Griffon set him down. Mud suctioned his bare feet, holding him down, and Vergil pushed his hair back once more. His entire body felt as electrified as if lightning had actually struck him, but now that he no longer swayed left and right, buffeted by the directions of Griffon’s flight and the incessant gusts, the storm howling around felt almost distant. 

Griffon lowered himself in front of Vergil, radiating pride. “Ya don’t know storms ‘til ya flew in one. Shame you’d get grilled so fast, paper boy, or that you’re so damn _heavy_.”

Vergil rolled his eyes. He was still panting heavily from the thrill, but he knew what Griffon wanted. In their relatively short time together, Vergil had quickly pieced together one fact about Griffon: he loved to fish for compliments or, even better, demand gratitude. And indeed, an instant later, he was rambling about how thankless Vergil was despite being shown the true nature of thunderstorms, so Vergil shut him down in the habitual way: he grabbed Griffon’s beak, shutting him up, before running his fingers much more gently all the way up to the top of his head and releasing him. 

“It certainly was… enlightening,” he said, taking care to put emphasis on the ‘ _lightning_ ’ part as he turned and walked away, back towards the shrine. A spark caught his shoulder an instant later, sending sharp pain through it, but despite Griffon’s electric protest, Vergil could feel his disgruntled amusement through the bond. He hummed to himself all the way to the first archway, and protection from the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> Vergil doing something exceedingly dangerous as if he still has his powers: CHECK
> 
> Shadow being the absolute best: CHECK
> 
> I love some soft Vergil <3 It's nice to be back to this series, and I might have one more for the Saturday prompt, but no guarantees!!


End file.
